


Hello, I'm Kai

by weonvu (genisaurion)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Parallel Worlds, Archived from: LiveJournal, KaiSoo - Freeform, M/M, Not a fluffy read, mentions of drowning prior to story's start, twist ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:46:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6817750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genisaurion/pseuds/weonvu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Remember,” Kai reminds Kyungsoo quietly, “you can’t tell a soul.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello, I'm Kai

**Author's Note:**

> This work has been imported from its original LiveJournal posting, which you can find [here](http://reveries-unsung.livejournal.com/1987.html).

 

 

  
Charming eyes. Devilish smile.  
  
These are the things Do Kyungsoo first comes to notice about his newest coworker. For a first impression he supposes this isn’t so bad, but there’s something unsettling about how he’s being watched from across the floor, and it makes him question just how familiar those familiar eyes might be.  
  
Kyungsoo only notices dark eyes and lips twitching into a crooked grin. He doesn’t notice underlying intentions. He doesn’t even notice when their distance is closed. Something about the new employee captivates Kyungsoo, and he all but drinks the unnamed man’s words when the latter takes initiative and introduces himself:  
  
“Hello, I’m Kai.”  
  
An awkward pause follows. The name bears no familiarity to him, despite the quaintness to the man’s eyes; it doesn’t sound Korean, so Kyungsoo supposes either it’s a nickname or Kai is of mixed descent. Yet Kai smiles at him as if expecting to be recognized, though Kyungsoo is quite certain he’s never met Kai previously.  
  
“Hello, Kai,” he answers cautiously. “I’m Kyungsoo.”  
  
There’s a tinge of disappointment. Kai doesn’t speak of it, but Kyungsoo notices. As their conversation fades, so does Kai’s smile, and Kyungsoo can’t help but to wonder if he’s said something wrong.  
  
_Am I…supposed to know him?_  
  
He’s not, Kyungsoo does know this, but he still can’t let the thought go. It lingers in the back of his mind, a question with no end, whose answer comprises conjoined fragments without definition, a conversation with himself. His thoughts are disorganized as he searches through memories for some semblance of familiarity, but it amounts to nothing, no matter how often or how differently he phrases the question in his mind, and his monologue culminates in frustration and in seeking Kai out to settle the matter once and for all.  
  
“Do I know you from somewhere?”  
  
“No,” Kai replies swiftly, “I don’t think you do. I’ve met you before, though.”  
  
“Y-You have?”  
  
“Yeah. But it doesn’t matter, now. I’ll be going soon.”  
  
There’s a brief pause between them, in which Kai continues to restock tomato soup cans and Kyungsoo reevaluates the various hypotheses he’s conjured in his head.  
  
“Hey, Kyungsoo? I don’t want to get fired on the first day. Can we talk later? I get off in two hours.”  
  
So they agree to meet outside, after the work day ends. Kyungsoo’s thoughts are in disarray—When had Kai met him? What had he said to cause Kai to go from fascination to disinterest? If he really hasn’t met Kai before, why does he still seem so familiar?—but he receives no closure, not in that moment, because Kai doesn’t wait for him.  
  
Perhaps Kai will still show up, Kyungsoo reasons with himself, perhaps he’s just running late, even though the store’s already locked up and most everyone’s gone home. So Kyungsoo waits for a little while longer, and during that brief moment Kyungsoo starts to wonder why Kai had introduced himself in the first place, why Kai had tricked him into waiting for him, why Kai had even picked up this job if he was supposedly going to be leaving soon. That Kyungsoo’s allowed himself to get worked up over a complete stranger baffles him, and the more he thinks about it the more he’s left curious.  
  
_Maybe he mistook me for someone else_ , Kyungsoo concludes. It’s the only explanation he can come up with, that Kai introduced himself thinking Kyungsoo was someone else he knew and now felt awkward about his mistake, so Kyungsoo falls back on it and lets the thought escape him for the moment. But charming eyes never do leave him, and Kai is no longer the only one left with disappointment.  
  
  
  
  
  
Kai isn’t working when Kyungsoo shows up at the supermarket for his next shift. Kyungsoo is sure it’s just the luck of the draw, that Kai’s only scheduled for a different shift, but he does consider the possibility that Kai might have resigned, because he never did find out what Kai had meant by ‘I’ll be going soon.’ Granted, Kyungsoo doesn’t give it too much consideration, not only because he doesn’t have enough leads to make any educated conclusions but also because Byun Baekhyun doesn’t give him the chance.  
  
“Hey you,” greets Baekhyun, and were it anyone else Kyungsoo would’ve questioned the informality of the greeting; “how’s my Prince doing?”  
  
If there’s one detail about Baekhyun worth mentioning, it’s that Baekhyun is Kyungsoo’s closest friend and is very generous with the pet names he gives him; Kyungsoo doesn’t think much of it and lets Baekhyun do as he pleases, because over the years they’ve known each other Kyungsoo has come to accept that harmless, flirtatious greetings are just how Baekhyun shows his affection.  
  
“All right, I guess. Hey, just because I’m on the floor doesn’t mean I’m free to hang out, you know this.”  
  
“Right, right,” Baekhyun replies dismissively. Kyungsoo suspects Baekhyun hasn’t listened to a word of what he’s said. “Just a heads up, don’t be surprised if Chanyeol calls you later today.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Baekhyun hesitates for a moment: just long enough for Kyungsoo to grow suspicious.  
  
“Baek…?”  
  
“Well, you know. It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out. Almost a year, right?”  
  
“More than a year, I think.”  
  
“…regardless, Chanyeol misses you and wants us to all hang out. _Absence makes the heart grow fonder_ , you know how that goes? Anyway, Chanyeol’s been talking to me about ideas, but you know what his ideas are like.”  
  
Kyungsoo does know. Last year he and Baekhyun had only just managed to escape a free-fall skydiving excursion; Chanyeol tends to live to the extreme, and Kyungsoo often finds himself unable to keep up. But Kyungsoo does have his reasons for erring on the side of caution, for taking life so conservatively, and he’s reminded of these reasons when Baekhyun enlightens him with Chanyeol’s next idea: Kayaking on the Han River.  
  
Baekhyun goes on to explain that the proposal is remarkably less extreme than those of previous years and that Chanyeol was upset when Baekhyun yet again disapproved of his activity of choice, but Kyungsoo isn’t really taking in any of Baekhyun’s words because he’s swept by the tide of a sea of his memories.  
  
“I’ll talk to him,” are the last words Kyungsoo catches from Baekhyun before he loses himself in violent waves, urgent cries from a distant shore, a darkened sky….  
  
But it’s not until late into the night that Kyungsoo sees Jongin again. Kyungsoo awakens in a cold sweat; Jongin’s screams still ring in his ears, but he knows Jongin isn’t there. Kyungsoo is alone in his room—in _his_ room, not on the water, not helplessly looking on from the shore, nowhere else but his room. He’s alone, he’s really alone, and Kyungsoo whispers it to himself over and over until he’s convinced, because the image of Jongin struggling beneath the water’s surface burns through his mind, despite the years it’d taken to forget—  
  
Kai.  
  
The realization occurs in mid-thought. Kyungsoo is caught by surprise, but when the shock passes and he thinks about it more, he understands there can be no other conclusion. There had to be a good ten years between the Kai who now works with him and the Jongin lost somewhere beneath the river: that, or Kai is younger than he looks. But then again, a good ten years have also passed since that accident. It makes no sense, yet it makes perfect sense, and though he can’t be sure if Kai and Jongin are the same person solely by their physical appearances, Kyungsoo can certainly conclude that at the very least they share the same charming eyes.  
  
_Could Kai…really be…?_  
  
For the remainder of the night he allows this realization to become his truth. The explanations he drafts up during this time are idiotically unrealistic; in one version Kyungsoo has his old childhood friend bargaining with some deity, and in exchange for his life back Jongin swears not to reveal his identity to anyone, not even to Kyungsoo. Everything else he comes up with is not even remotely believable, so come morning Kyungsoo knows what must be done.  
  
Kyungsoo finds Kai later that day at work, and he prepares his words with the intention of hearing the truth straight from Kai’s mouth. Like before, Kai is scheduled on the floor; like before, he asks Kyungsoo to wait until his shift ends. But Kyungsoo refuses to fall for the same trick twice, and before Kai can walk away again Kyungsoo blurts out:  
  
“You’re Jongin.”  
  
The mood changes noticeably. Kai’s expression stiffens, masking an unexplained shock. Kyungsoo can sense his apprehension, even the way Kai’s lips contort slightly, as if opening his mouth to speak but losing the words before he can say them.  
  
“You’re Jongin, but you can’t be.”  
  
Kai turns away, fiddling with soup cans on the shelf; Kyungsoo mimics him, even though he’s not yet scheduled to work. That Kai hasn’t shoved him away is a good sign, or so Kyungsoo thinks, and he’s hopeful it’s because he’s struck a new chord with the name Jongin. But it doesn’t solve anything, because Jongin’s supposed to be dead. Kyungsoo is still haunted with the memory, he knows Jongin drowned. If Kai really were familiar with the name Jongin, let alone if Kai really _was_ Jongin, reality as Kyungsoo knows it would have been a lie.  
  
The thing with waiting is that there isn’t always a definitive end, but even if there were an end, the seconds would still lapse into minutes, the minutes into hours. This is the case with Kyungsoo, and as he mindlessly feigns stocking the shelves he clings to every breath Kai takes, hopeful that maybe this breath will be the one which explains everything.  
  
It takes a while, but eventually Kai does whisper something under his breath:  
  
“Where is Jongin?”  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t even consider the absurdity or the unexpectedness of this question. Somewhere between a whisper and a restrained sob, Kyungsoo tells Kai about Jongin. Several times Kai asks Kyungsoo to speak up, but Kyungsoo doesn’t really follow; he’s lost in his recollection, even though his narration skips around and follows no logical order, as if lost in the literal sense. Though Kyungsoo is talking to Kai, Kai fades with the backdrop, and for a moment Kyungsoo forgets there’s a chance that Kai might not be the Jongin who was once his childhood friend, that his conclusions are premature and may only lead to further misunderstandings.  
  
Kyungsoo tells Kai about his elementary school excursion to the wilderness, about a boating accident gone wrong, about the day he’d lost Jongin. He concludes with “He’s gone, now,” and the air grows thick because neither has forgotten the overlying issue, that Kai is Jongin yet can’t be Jongin.  
  
Kai speaks with the intention of putting Kyungsoo’s uncertainty to rest, but his words only leave room for more questions.  
  
“It’s true. I go by Kai, but my birth name is Kim Jongin. But I’m not the Jongin you once knew.”  
  
The response makes sense, Kyungsoo figures. After all, the man who stands next to him is alive and well and hasn’t drowned in a river. But Kai’s eyes are too familiar, they trigger memories of Jongin: Kyungsoo refuses to write Kai off as some man of the same name with coincidental likeness.  
  
Kyungsoo yearns for more, but Kai refuses to relent much else. “I’ll be leaving soon, so it won’t matter,” is what Kai reasons, but it only unleashes a new flood of questions: _Where did you come from? Why are you going? Where was it that you met me previously? Are you related to the Jongin I knew? why are your eyes so_ —  
  
But these questions remain unanswered because their supervisor spots them and tells them off for slacking on the job, much to Kai’s chagrin. Kyungsoo is sent to the break room until his shift starts; by the time he’s clocked in and is allowed back on the floor, Kai is nowhere to be found.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol is talking to him over the phone, but Kyungsoo isn’t really listening.  
  
“…sorry, what?”  
  
“Again? Yah, that’s the second time you’ve asked me to repeat myself!”  
  
“Sorry, I’m just a bit tired right now.” Kyungsoo’s telling the truth, too: he hasn’t gotten any sleep since he last ran into Kai, and he truthfully is both physically and mentally exhausted. Half the problem is that he spent the night trying to solve a puzzle he doesn’t have all the pieces to, and it doesn’t help that a certain pair of charming eyes won’t leave him alone, now that he’s identified just why they seem so familiar.  
  
Kai is Jongin. But Jongin isn’t Kai.  
  
Chanyeol is calling to him again, and Kyungsoo is torn away from his thoughts before he can attempt, and fail, to explain what Kai’s said to him.  
  
“Don’t tell me you need that repeated again?”  
  
“Sorry,” Kyungsoo mumbles sheepishly. “Maybe just…this one last time?”  
  
So Chanyeol tells Kyungsoo of their new plans, how Baekhyun’s convinced him to settle with Go Karting. Kyungsoo knows the only reason Chanyeol agrees is because there’s more thrill to Go Karts than there is to open-water kayaking, which initially he’d only suggested as a compromise to his usual daredevil tendencies; Kyungsoo would sooner pick skydiving than a second go at kayaking.  
  
“Save the date, this Saturday morning,” says Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo feels proud that he doesn’t also need this repeated. “If you forget, I swear I’ll buy you a new brain to replace that memory of yours.”  
  
“Shut up,” Kyungsoo whines, and Chanyeol only laughs loudly in response.  
  
“But no man, really, you okay? Why are you so tired?”  
  
“Oh, that….” Kyungsoo chuckles, an attempt to disguise his relief. For a moment Kyungsoo feared Chanyeol has somehow found out about Kai, but then he remembers Chanyeol has never known Jongin like he and Baekhyun had.  
  
“D.O.?”  
  
“Oh, right. Yeah, I’m okay. I’ll see you on Saturday, yeah?”  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t wait for a reply. He hangs up before he accidentally voices his inner doubts: that he just might not be okay.  
  
  
  
  
  
Kyungsoo corners Kai after the next shift they share together comes to a close. Truthfully, it’s more like Kyungsoo catches the bus Kai had already been waiting on, but the principle is the same and Kai can’t escape when Kyungsoo takes the aisle seat adjacent to him.  
  
“It’s pointless,” Kai mutters once the bus takes off. “I’m leaving in two days, if all goes well. With so little time left, you shouldn’t want to get to know me.”  
  
“If all goes well?” Kyungsoo echoes. He knows Kai had said this in hopes of preempting his curiosity, but Kyungsoo is only given more of a reason to pester him. “What do you mean?”  
  
“It’s nothing.”  
  
“Please tell me?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Don’t make me beg.”  
  
“I still wouldn’t tell you.”  
  
There’s a pause that follows. The bus stops. People board the bus. People pay their fare and move to the back of the bus. Kyungsoo isn’t sure why he’s suddenly paying attention to all of these small and insignificant details, but a quick glance out the corner of his eye tells him he’s not the only one who’s stopped to observe.  
  
The bus begins once more, and Kyungsoo again turns to Kai.  
  
“Please?”  
  
“You don’t give up, do you?” Kai asks in disbelief, and Kyungsoo shakes his head in agreement.  
  
“Nope. It’s not my fault you’re being all mysterious, though.”  
  
“Would you rather me stay silent, then?”  
  
Kyungsoo again shakes his head. “Nah, I’d rather you talk. Even the smallest of details help form the big picture, you know? And right now, I got nothing.”  
  
“Forget it. I’ll only hurt you in the long run.”  
  
“You know, if you hadn’t introduced yourself to me in the first place, I wouldn’t be here bothering you.”  
  
“My mistake, I suppose.”  
  
“It’s hard to think you remind me of Jongin, you’re nothing like—”  
  
“I’m not Jongin, okay?” Kai hisses suddenly, and Kyungsoo is taken aback by the unexpected bite. “I mean I am, just…not the one you knew.”  
  
“Well then, I’m sorry for not being the Kyungsoo you once knew. That’s why you introduced yourself to me, isn’t it?”  
  
Truthfully Kyungsoo isn’t acting on any one suspicion, but his whim seems accurate enough. The split-second hesitation is all Kyungsoo needs to confirm that there’s at least a sliver of truth to his accusation.  
  
“Tell me about him.”  
  
The request is sudden, hushed, with reluctance. In the midst of the chatter throughout the bus, Kyungsoo nearly misses it.  
  
“Who, Jongin? But I already told you, he got into a—”  
  
“You said we’re nothing alike. So tell me. What was he like?”  
  
“Oh.” It occurs to Kyungsoo that he’s never been asked this question before. Even at Jongin’s memorial service no one had asked this of him, though he did receive many condolences from his friends and teachers. Kyungsoo finds the question unexpectedly difficult to answer; while he had been childhood friends with Jongin, his childhood was quite a number of years ago.  
  
“Well, the accident happened when I was twelve, so he must’ve been eleven. The Jongin I remember…he was shy. Playful too, he used to tease me a lot when we were alone. But definitely shy, especially in large groups. Don’t get me wrong, he loved attention, he was the star of our talent shows. But put the attention on him when he least expected it? Heh. It was cute, I guess, watching him get embarrassed.  
  
“I remember taking care of him a lot. Whenever we had sleepovers he’d forget to brush his teeth, so I’d have to remind him—but then he’d do it wrong yet again, so I’d have to show him how to brush his teeth properly. And Jongin had this problem with wearing clothes, he just couldn’t wear clothes correctly, no matter how hard he tried, if he even tried at all. I probably spent half my time fixing his collar or buttoning his shirt correctly or…what?”  
  
Kyungsoo stops: There's a soft smile upon Kai’s face and it causes Kyungsoo to lose his momentum. It has Kyungsoo curious, though it takes him a little while longer to notice the grin upon his own face.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You’re smiling,” says Kyungsoo. “I haven’t seen you smile since the day we met.”  
  
“I’m smiling because you’re smiling. You seemed happy, talking about Jongin. I wasn’t expecting it, you should do it more.”  
  
Kyungsoo says nothing to these words. He isn’t sure if he can talk about Jongin more than he already has.  
  
“Also…what you said reminds me of what I used to be.”  
  
“What you used to be?”  
  
“Yeah. What I used to be, before I….”  
  
Kai doesn’t finish the sentence. Kyungsoo almost expects this, as if he’s cursed to learn only bits and pieces at a time; this time, Kai stops mid-sentence because the bus is approaching his stop, so he all but clamors over Kyungsoo in his attempt to make it off the bus.  
  
“Oh, tomorrow will probably be my last day of work,” Kai says offhandedly, just as the doors are about to open for him. “After that, I’ll be gone. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”  
  
“Yeah.” Kyungsoo waves Kai his goodbye, though Kai doesn’t really leave him, not for the rest of that evening. He feels like he’s made progress, though Kai has already made one empty promise before, but he also feels he hasn’t unearthed enough. There’s still so much he needs to learn, so much Kai has left unanswered. If anything, he’s only created more questions that need answering.  
  
_Two days,_ Kyungsoo mutters to himself. _I need more time_.  
  
Kyungsoo comes to understand, by the time he collapses onto his bed, that he refuses to let Kai go quietly because Kai is Jongin, even if Jongin isn’t Kai. While there’s still much he doesn’t understand, Kyungsoo is sure that their meeting cannot be a coincidence, that to give up Kai is to give up a second chance at knowing Jongin.  
  
  
  


Kyungsoo has Fridays off, but he finds himself at the supermarket anyway. There’s much from which he can profit by meeting Kai, another sleepless night has convinced him this much, and it’s worth far more than the bus tokens he could’ve saved otherwise. But Kyungsoo doesn’t really think his actions through, so though he arrives at the beginning of Kai’s shift he doesn’t get the chance to talk until Kai’s closing up several hours later.  
  
It starts in the same manner as the day before. Short, timid sentences. Missed glances. Anxious shuffling, occasional bumping of shoulders, each of them anticipating the arrival of the next bus, or perhaps something more….  
  
“Tell me about your Kyungsoo,” Kyungsoo eventually garners the courage to ask.  
  
“I never admitted to having a Kyungsoo of my own.”  
  
“But you do have a Kyungsoo, don’t you? Is he anything like me?” Kyungsoo pauses for a moment, perhaps to give Kai the chance to speak. But Kai remains silent, so after a few seconds he continues: “You know, it’s funny, Jongin always used to stress his individuality, he’d say corny things like _There’s a sea full of fish but only one of me_ , you know? And now many years later I run into you, and you’re basically a living counterexam—”  
  
“I’ll be gone by tomorrow,” Kai interjects. “Nothing I say will matter after that.”  
  
“Can you stop using that word?” Kai doesn’t have to clarify which word, Kyungsoo suspects he’s already figured it out: For Kyungsoo, _gone_ is a heavily weighted word. Even if Kyungsoo’s current attachment to Kai is his resemblance to Jongin, he still dislikes the thought of him leaving. But being gone is more than just leaving. It’s ceasing to exist, and that’s what bothers Kyungsoo.  
  
Before Kyungsoo can voice this frustration, Kai whispers something into his ear, though his words are lost by the sudden screeching of their arriving bus; Kai repeats himself moments later, after they’ve paid their fare and settled into their seats.  
  
“He’s exactly like you.”  
  
It takes Kyungsoo a moment to put two and two together. But when he does figure it out, he breaks into a warm smile, and Kai is quick in producing a grin of his own.  
  
“Cool guy, isn’t he? …but um, when you say ‘your Kyungsoo’, is he actually…you know, me? Or is he just someone you’re reminded of?”  
  
Kai shrugs, seemingly nonchalant, but Kyungsoo can sense the hesitance he’s trying to mask.  
  
“You wouldn’t believe me.”  
  
“And why do you assume that? Besides, if you’re really leaving tomorrow, what does it matter what I think of you? Say I don’t believe you, say I call you a liar. Won’t mean anything if you never let me see you again, right?”  
  
“I…” begins Kai, but he loses the train of thought. Kyungsoo, meanwhile, smiles victoriously for having used Kai’s reasoning against him.  
  
“If I tell you,” continues Kai, after he recovers, “then you promise not to tell a soul.”  
  
“Sure, sure.” Truthfully Kyungsoo already anticipates the nature of Kai’s answer. Neither would have gone through all this trouble if ‘Kai’s Kyungsoo’ were just any other person. So Kyungsoo reasons they must be the same, even though he doesn’t yet understand the implications behind that conclusion.  
  
_Maybe it’s like how he is with Jongin_ , Kyungsoo thinks to himself. He notes, vaguely, that he doesn’t actually know ‘how Kai is with Jongin,’ and he supposes the observation is inconclusive at best. So he makes the promise to Kai in hopes of understanding the situation at last, but he’s not fully prepared for the truth Kai gives him.  
  
“My Kyungsoo is you, yeah, but from my world. It’s like me sharing the same appearance as Jongin. We’re identical entities living in parallel universes…at least, until I fell through the cracks.”  
  
“From your world? Fell through the cracks? What?” But Kyungsoo doesn’t receive an immediate explanation because the bus arrives at Kai’s stop, and Kyungsoo is more than convinced that fate must really not want him knowing more than he should. It’s different this time, though, because Kai is leaving _tomorrow_ , and Kyungsoo refuses to let him go after having come so far. So, when Kai steps off the bus, Kyungsoo does also, and to Kyungsoo’s surprise Kai neither questions his presence nor makes a complaint.  
  
“Remember,” Kai reminds Kyungsoo quietly, “you can’t tell a soul.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Are you sure you want an explanation?”  
  
“I’m sure.”  
  
“Even knowing you’ll only be hurt in the end?” Kyungsoo pauses longer than he should, so Kai takes the moment to explain. “I told you, I’ll be gone by tomorrow. If you really don’t tell anyone, you’ll spend your whole life keeping a secret. I’m only bad news for you, all the more if you let yourself get attached to me.”  
  
Kyungsoo scoffs. “You’re so dramatic. But yeah, I’m sure. Though, what’s so top secret about what you have to say, anyway?”  
  
“The existence of parallel universes?”  
  
“Oh.” Kyungsoo shrugs, seemingly disinterested. “I think scientists are too concerned with other issues to seek out a nobody like me about something they have no knowledge of.”  
  
“Still, you can’t tell anyone.” They fall into another silence; Kai mumbles something about his home being just around the corner, but Kyungsoo is too consumed in his thoughts to acknowledge him or start further conversation. He questions everything in his head—Kai’s motives, the validity of his words and the existence of these parallel universes—and though Kyungsoo’s education tells him that Kai’s existence should be an impossibility, Kai is definitely in existence, so there must be at least some truth to what he has to say.  
  
Kai leads him to a small flat, which at the very least aligns with what he’s said thus far. It’s very temporary, is what first comes to mind, and the thought is bolstered by the lack of permanence within the apartment: There’s no furniture, no decorations…nothing except for a mat, which Kyungsoo assumes is Kai’s makeshift bed, and a small pile of his clothes.  
  
“It’s not much,” Kai admits, “but you did invite yourself without warning, so I didn’t have time to accommodate you, I’m sorry.”  
  
“I’m sorry for imposing, then.” Kyungsoo allows himself another glance around the room—the kitchen is furnished, it seems, but Kyungsoo has a feeling Kai never cooked for himself—before pointing at the mat. “Can I sit there?”  
  
“Yeah. Sorry for not having a couch. But like I said, I’ll be gone by tomorrow. Already sold the furniture and donated most of my clothes…all the stuff I won’t need.”  
  
“Where are you moving to?”  
  
Kai doesn’t answer until they’re both seated on the mat.  
  
“To another universe, I guess. I don’t really get to choose where I go next.”  
  
“Oh.” Maybe, just maybe, this parallel universe business should be taken seriously. Kyungsoo hasn’t had the time to fully understand just what this existence of parallel universes means, let alone Kai’s apparent traveling between them, but he does acknowledge the fact that once Kai leaves he really will be gone. Forever.  
  
More than ever, the thought troubles Kyungsoo.  
  
“Hey,” Kai whispers cautiously, sensing Kyungsoo’s concern. “I warned you. I’m only bad news for you.”  
  
“Shut up,” Kyungsoo hisses just as quietly, causing Kai to recoil. “I know. Just tell me everything.”  
  
“Right. Where should I start?”  
  
As if reciting from a mental list of questions in his head, Kyungsoo doesn’t miss a beat. “How long have you been here?”  
  
“Three months. It’s always three months.”  
  
“Where are you from, originally?”  
  
“I don’t know,” replies Kai, and it earns him a puzzled look on Kyungsoo’s part. “Well, I do know, but the universes don’t really have names, you know? It’s similar to this one, though the country I’m from is just Korea. There’s no North or South.”  
  
“Really?” asks Kyungsoo, and his fascination urges him toward questions he hadn’t previously considered. “How many universes have you been to? What’re they like?”  
  
“I lost count. I’ve been traveling for years now. Some are rather normal, like your universe. Others…well.” Kai pauses to raise his shirt, exposing his torso; at first Kyungsoo is unsure what he’s supposed to be taking in, but then he notices the huge gash down Kai’s side.  
  
“Ho—”  
  
“I think it was three universes ago. It’s not easy outrunning a dinosaur, let me tell you.”  
  
“A dinosaur did that?” Kyungsoo asks, gasping softly. He’s torn between shock and fascination, and without really thinking Kyungsoo traces his finger along the scar. Kai shivers from the touch, and in panic Kyungsoo withdraws his hand.  
  
“D-Does it still hurt? I-I’m—”  
  
“No, it doesn’t hurt. You just…surprised me.” Kai laughs softly, as if trying to alleviate the mood, though Kyungsoo is too entranced with Kai’s eyes to follow Kai’s intentions. Coupled with his smile, Kai really does resemble Jongin, and the resemblance burns stronger than it ever has before.  
  
_But they’re the same person_ , Kyungsoo reminds himself. Same person, different universes. However that was supposed to work. Stuck on this thought, Kyungsoo decides to ask Kai for clarification.  
  
“If it’s easier to think of it this way, then fine, we’re not the same person. For example, I have none of your Jongin’s memories, nor those belonging to any other Jongin. We share the same likeness, the same name…sometimes the same personality. Do you understand the concept of alternate universes?”  
  
“Somewhat, yeah.”  
  
“Then, just think of us as parallel Jongins. Had your Jongin not … he would have looked exactly as I do now, save room for differences based on life decisions—like tattoos and piercings.”  
  
Kyungsoo nods slowly in understanding. “I guess I was just slow on the uptake because you’re a good ten years older than Jongin.”  
  
“Well, I’m Jongin, too,” Kai reminds him, “but if it’s easier to refer to me as Kai, then it’s fine. I’ll be gone by tomorrow, anyway.”  
  
“Can you stop bringing that up?” Kyungsoo hisses. Again he repeats to himself, ‘Kai is Jongin, even if Kai isn’t really Jongin,’ and Kyungsoo doesn’t want to have to say goodbye, not just yet.  
  
“Sorry,” Kai apologizes. It’s all he says, too. Kyungsoo knows what Kai should have said, what he probably wanted to say, what he’s already said several times before: ‘I’m nothing but trouble. You’ll only get hurt.’ But Kai doesn’t say it this time, only continues with his previous explanation.  
  
“The parallel identities—Jongins, or whatever—don’t necessarily exist at the same time. For instance…well, you remember dinosaurs, there were no Jongins in that world. There’s also this highly appraised musician from where I’m from, Kim Jong Il, though I believe here he’s the dictator of North Korea, or something?”  
  
“He was, yeah.” Kyungsoo thinks it’s all fascinating, even though he’s not usually one to like these sort of things. There’s a different question now upon his mind, and it is the same question with which he’d started their conversation for that day:  
  
“What was your Kyungsoo like?” Kai gives his previous response, that _He’s exactly like you,_ so Kyungsoo adds, “But he’s not _exactly_ like me, is he? You said Kim Jong Il was a musician in your world, so there’s a good chance Kyungsoo isn’t a supermarket employee in your world, right?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Kai answers solemnly. “I haven’t been able to find him.”  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t understand. There’s an important question he’s forgotten to ask, and he curses himself for having not mentioned it sooner. Even someone like himself, who doesn’t really understand the concept of crossing dimensions, can safely assume that people don’t just ‘fall through the cracks’, so along with ‘ _What do you mean you haven’t found him, where is he?_ ’ comes ‘ _Why exactly are you traveling between all these universes?_ ’  
  
The answers Kyungsoo receives are far from sufficient: “Because I lost him. Or perhaps, he’s lost me” and “Because I fell through the cracks,” respectively.  
  
“Maybe I’ve said too much,” Kai adds, and Kyungsoo’s eyes widen with apprehension. Kyungsoo fears what may come next, and Kyungsoo doesn’t want to go—or rather, doesn’t want to let Kai go—not when he’s come so far, even if he hasn’t stopped to comprehend everything he’s been told.  
  
Kai takes notice of his feelings, or Kyungsoo thinks he does, because Kai offers him the same words from before: “Don’t get too attached to me, Kyungsoo. I’m just going to leave you.”  
  
The fear is still there, the reluctance of letting Kai go still burns within Kyungsoo, but this time something clicks.  
  
Kai is leaving him to find _his_ Kyungsoo.  
  
_He’s not your Jongin, Kyungsoo_ , Kyungsoo reminds himself, and the thought is accompanied with a deep sigh. Internally he entertains an endless thought: Kai is Jongin, Jongin isn’t Kai, Kai is Jongin, Kai isn’t his Jongin, Kai is _still_ Jongin—  
  
“Maybe you should go home,” whispers Kai, rousing Kyungsoo from his thoughts. “It’s getting late.”  
  
“I don’t want to say goodbye.”  
  
“You’re going to have to. Soon.”  
  
Kyungsoo furiously shakes his head. He closes his eyes and exhales, racking his brains for something, anything, to keep goodbye at bay.  
  
“Will you at least let me cook for you?” Kyungsoo asks in his desperation to stay just a little longer, but he hits an unexpected chord and catches Kai in a split-second moment of hesitation.  
  
“I don’t have anything here. Fridge is empty.”  
  
“Tomorrow, then? Before you go.”  
  
Kai’s eyes meet Kyungsoo’s, and for a moment no words are exchanged. Kyungsoo is rooted, Kyungsoo has never seen anything else but Jongin when he looks into Kai’s eyes, and for the first time Kyungsoo wonders if Kai sees his Kyungsoo, too.  
  
“Okay,” Kai says after some time, though he keeps his eyes locked with Kyungsoo’s. “Come early tomorrow, make me breakfast before I go.”  
  
Kyungsoo sighs in relief. “Thank you,” he says, and he breaks into a grin. “I’ll be here.”  
  
  
  
  
  
But Kyungsoo doesn’t really leave, or rather, Kyungsoo flirts with the doorway in his indecisiveness until Kai complains about the cold breeze and pulls him back inside.  
  
For a moment, neither speaks: Kai’s seldom had the initiative, and Kyungsoo doesn’t want a reason to be shooed away. As the silence begins to grow, Kyungsoo’s disinterested eyes search the room for a harmless fascination; Kai goes out, he _has_ to go out, Kyungsoo thinks to himself, because there’s no way Kai can possibly pass the time by staring at the wall all evening.  
  
“You’d be surprised,” counters Kai, though it takes Kyungsoo a moment to realize it’s in response to his subconsciously vocalized thoughts. “It’s easy to hear yourself think when you’ve only got a blank wall to look at.”  
  
“Is it particularly difficult to think elsewhere?”  
  
Kai only shrugs, turns away. “Not really, I guess. I only stare at the wall like this if there’s something I have to think about.”  
  
“Meaning, you were thinking of something just now.” Kyungsoo wonders, maybe hopes, that Kai is entertaining the thought of not leaving after all, but he doesn’t allow himself to get carried away with the thought. Kai’s will is resolute, he’s come to understand this much.  
  
“Most of the time,” says Kai, “I dance.”  
  
“Dance?” Kyungsoo’s mind flits back to Jongin—not to the Jongin beneath the river, but to the Jongin on stage, the Jongin lost in dance, oblivious to the world. Kyungsoo smiles at the memory, until he realizes that that’s exactly what Jongin is: a memory. Then Kai’s words set in, even though he’s been saying the same message since the beginning. Kai isn’t the Jongin he once knew. Kai merely rouses a memory that had not been put to rest.  
  
Kyungsoo’s eyes lose focus for a moment, and when he regains awareness he finds Kai situated in the middle of the room. Surrounded by empty space, Kai plants his feet into the ground, and the sight confuses Kyungsoo because he doesn’t remember asking Kai to dance for him. But Kyungsoo loses the thought when Kai begins to move: Kyungsoo first notices fluid motions and swaying hips, and he’s strangely entranced. The dance isn’t familiar, Jongin had never danced this sensually before, but one look into Kai’s eyes tells Kyungsoo that they really are the same.  
  
Determination. Passion.  
  
Kyungsoo carefully watches Kai as his elbows snap, his toes tap and his hands clap to an undefined rhythm. There’s no accompaniment, so Kyungsoo improvises one, and Kai matches Kyungsoo’s inflections with precise choreography. It’s a beautiful analogy to their existences: As Kai and Kyungsoo coexist but belong to parallel universes, Kai’s dancing and Kyungsoo’s song are of different mediums yet complement each other perfectly.  
  
When Kyungsoo loses his words, Kai concludes his performance and gives a gentlemanly bow. There’s a grin etched upon Kai’s face, even as he catches his breath—Kyungsoo, too, is out of breath, but he doesn’t understand why, nor does he understand why his body burns like fire, why the feeling continues to rise in his chest the longer he looks into Kai’s darkened eyes.  
  
“Do you…dance like that all the time?” Kyungsoo asks, only after he manages the breath.  
  
“Most of the time,” Kai replies shakily, breaking into a wider grin. “It’s how I cope when the going gets rough. Dancing doesn’t make the world any better, but it puts my mind at ease.”  
  
“I told you my Jongin liked to dance, right? You two really are the same.”  
  
_But they’re not the same_ , Kyungsoo silently adds to himself. Kai is Jongin, Kyungsoo has said this all along—but is he _really_ Jongin, or has he become…Kai, just Kai?  
  
Kyungsoo knows he can’t hold onto Kai forever. He’s not even meant to have held onto Jongin for this long. Maybe tomorrow he’ll be able to say goodbye to them both. But for tonight, Kyungsoo wishes only to pretend. He doesn’t want to welcome goodnight, let alone goodbye. Not tonight.  
  
“Teach me to dance,” Kyungsoo whispers, and he repeats it when his eyes meet Kai’s. “Teach me to dance with you.”  
  
“I’ll be gone by—”  
  
“Tomorrow, I know, you’ve already told me. But I’m not ready for tomorrow yet.”  
  
Kai shakes his head. “I meant…if I dance with you tonight, it’s the only dance you’ll ever have with me. When you dance with someone, you share something special with that person: Together, you create your own dance. You can dance with five hundred different people and remember each—”  
  
“How many Kyungsoos have you danced with?” Kyungsoo interjects, and Kai’s answer is immediate.  
  
“Only one,” replies Kai. He has nothing to add, to Kyungsoo’s relief: Kyungsoo does not want to admit that he hasn’t danced with any Jongins.  
  
“Your Kyungsoo?” asks Kyungsoo, and Kai nods stiffly. “Then think of it like this. My mind needs to be put at ease, and you need practice for the day you’re reunited with your Kyungsoo.”  
  
“Hah! I don’t need prac—”  
  
“Just. Humor me. Dance with me. Please.” At these words Kai breaks into sudden laughter, though Kyungsoo isn’t sure why. His intentions are to convince Kai to dance with him, not have him laugh at him, and in his puzzlement he stares blankly at Kai with no words to offer.  
  
“You really are the same as my Kyungsoo,” Kai teases. Kyungsoo’s not sure if Kai’s stating the fact or if he’s mimicking his remark from before, but Kyungsoo isn’t given the chance to question him; in the same breath Kai pulls Kyungsoo off the mat and presses Kyungsoo’s body against his , and without protest from Kyungsoo they dance until they become one.  
  
  
  
  
  
Kyungsoo wakes up in the middle of the night to Kai sprawled on top of him, and even in his stupor it gives him a laugh. He’s reminded of his sleepovers with Jongin, when Jongin could never stay on his side of the bed, to the point where both boys had given up trying and claimed all the bed as both of theirs. Now, while the mat had been theirs to share, Kyungsoo is left with the mat all for himself while Kai has claimed Kyungsoo as his.  
  
Kyungsoo tries to move, but Kai only clings more tightly to him, only continues to groan in protest. It’s cute, Kyungsoo thinks, and it reminds him of a child and his treasured possession. Then Kyungsoo decides that’s exactly what it is, because Kyungsoo is exactly like Kai’s Kyungsoo, whom he’d lost years ago….  
  
Kai is lonely, has been lonely, Kyungsoo can tell by the way Kai won’t let go of him. Kyungsoo doesn’t want to say he understands, because he suspects he doesn’t, but he thinks he’s beginning to. Kai hadn’t said just how long he’s been traveling— _years_ , he’d said—and Kyungsoo can only begin to imagine how many worlds Kai has visited, almost all of which bearing no familiarity, no reassurance, no Kyungsoo to return to….  
  
Kyungsoo spares a glance at Kai, who’d slowly warmed up to him over the course of their night. He has to keep reminding himself that he hasn’t even known Kai for a week, yet somehow they’ve still come this far. He remembers their meeting, when Kai had pulled back upon learning that the man he’d introduced himself to wasn’t his Kyungsoo. He remembers how it’d taken several days to make the connection between Jongin and Kai, how he’d spent every day yearning for answers, only to be presented with more questions. And now, he’s here, only to have to say goodbye.  
  
With Jongin, there had been no goodbye; with Kai, Kyungsoo prolongs it, fears it. But now that Kyungsoo has a chance at goodbye, he begins to reevaluate his past: Maybe a parting with Jongin was best without a goodbye.  
  
Kyungsoo can’t return to sleep. He’s not ready to let Kai go, but he doesn’t know if he ever will be.  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning Kyungsoo has to force himself free from beneath Kai. He bids a groggy Kai a quick goodbye before he leaves to get groceries for Kai’s breakfast, but almost everything so very conveniently gets in his way. The first obstacle he faces is the work shift he’s scheduled for, but that problem is quickly rectified when he calls in and feigns sickness. His next obstacle is to buy groceries without being spotted, lest his cover be blown, and it’s one of the few times he wishes he wasn’t employed at the local supermarket; Kyungsoo resolves to take the bus to another supermarket instead, and the extra commute takes up nearly an hour of his morning.  
  
Kyungsoo’s biggest hurdle, however, comes in the form of Park Chanyeol. He receives one text message right as Kai lets him back into the flat, and then another as Kyungsoo is setting down the bags of groceries in Kai’s kitchen.  
  
“Maybe you should answer that?” Kai suggests to Kyungsoo as he follows him into the kitchen, leaning against the door frame with mild amusement.  
  
“If it’s important, he’ll call.”  
  
Of course, just as he says these words, Chanyeol does call.  
  
“Maybe you should answer that?” Kai suggests again, and Kyungsoo scowls at Kai’s accompanying smirk before answering his phone.  
  
“ _Where are you?!_ ” screams Chanyeol before Kyungsoo can manage a proper hello, and even Kai can hear his shrieks from across the kitchen. “Baekhyun and I are here waiting for you, you better be close by!”  
  
“Close…by…?” echoes Kyungsoo, brow furrowed in his confusion. What could Chanyeol be—  
  
And then he remembers: Chanyeol’s Go Kart plans.  
  
“That was today?” Kyungsoo wonders aloud, though his thoughts had not been meant for Chanyeol’s ears.  
  
“ _‘That was today?’_ D.O., do you even know what today is?!”  
  
There’s a sudden staticky noise. Somewhere between Chanyeol’s shouting and the sounds of the phone being dropped, Kyungsoo turns and catches Kai’s eye. There’s an unexplainable something about Kai’s gaze that has Kyungsoo’s cheeks heating up, perhaps a reminder of when wide eyes met alluring eyes the night before, and Kyungsoo ducks his head away in a foolish attempt to hide his embarrassment.  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t understand Kai’s expression, nor does he want to. He distracts himself with the phone call; his voice cracks when he next speaks into the phone:  
  
“H-Hello?”  
  
“Hey Babe, it’s Baekhyun. Do you really not know what today is?”  
  
Kyungsoo pauses a quick moment to consider Baekhyun’s question. “Well, we were going to go Go Karting, right? I’m sorry, Chanyeol told me to save the date, but it completely slipped my mind….”  
  
“…I see.” Kyungsoo doesn’t like the tone in Baekhyun’s voice, he knows he’s disappointed in him, but Baekhyun continues to speak before Kyungsoo can manage the apology. “Hey listen, how soon can you make it here, do you think? I can try to think of something to do with Chanyeol while we wait for you?”  
  
“Baek…” but Baekhyun cuts him off with a heavy sigh before Kyungsoo can even continue his sentence. He already knows, Kyungsoo thinks to himself, or at least he knows enough. Kyungsoo doesn’t think Baekhyun knows about Kai and his ties to Jongin or about where Kyungsoo is right now and why he’s forgotten about their plans together. But Kyungsoo is certain that Baekhyun’s figured out enough to understand that—  
  
“You can’t make it, can you?” Baekhyun almost whispers, and Kyungsoo mumbles a guilty affirmation. “Why? We planned this in advance, didn’t we? I…uh, we wanted…. Well, you know. Chanyeol is going to be upset.”  
  
“I…” and Kyungsoo turns to Kai once more. He can’t make it because of Kai. or is it because of Jongin?—Kyungsoo is no longer sure whom he’s most afraid of losing. Unsure how to communicate this to Baekhyun, Kyungsoo finishes with, “I have to say goodbye to an important friend,” and despite his ambiguity Kyungsoo hopes Baekhyun doesn’t ask him too many questions.  
  
There’s a slight pause on Baekhyun’s part—Kyungsoo assumes he’s trying to figure out how to deal with Chanyeol—before he speaks again. “I understand, I guess. I’ll figure something out with Chanyeol, then. Promise not to ditch us like this again?”  
  
“Promise. I’m sorry, Baek.” They exchange several more words before Baekhyun cuts the line. In the following silence Kyungsoo sighs, troubled: he really had forgotten their plans. But between those plans and Kai….  
  
In his predicament Kyungsoo momentarily forgets Kai’s presence, despite Kai being the implied topic of conversation with Baekhyun. Kyungsoo’s only shaken from his thoughts when he feels Kai’s chin digging into his shoulder, and when Kyungsoo turns to face him he’s met with charming eyes and Kai’s soft chuckling.  
  
“Mister Important Friend,” he singsongs, “I’m hungry. Please feed me.”  
  
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and shakes his head with distaste, though he fails to keep the grin off his face.  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” So Kyungsoo prepares for Kai the best meal he feels he’s ever made—Kyungsoo has certainly never put this much effort into his cooking before—and he’s filled with an inexplicable warmth when Kai showers him with his compliments. Kyungsoo suspects Kai’s appreciation is more that Kai hasn’t had many people cook for him in a long while, not so much that Kai actually likes the food, though he does accept Kai’s kindhearted words without too much reluctance.  
  
Throughout their breakfast Kyungsoo begins to wonder what sort of cuisine Kai’s used to eating, if food and culture change drastically between dimensions, and by the time they’ve both finished eating Kyungsoo is filled with a new inspiration and begins to ask Kai all sorts of questions: old and new questions alike. This time, Kyungsoo’s questions are fueled by curiosity, focusing less on Kai and more on where Kai’s been. He asks about the different foods and cultures Kai’s experienced across the dimensions, the kinds of people—and animals, and dinosaurs—he’s encountered, the various climates and scenery, the technological development of each dimension, the number of hours of daylight, the—  
  
“You’re really that interested in my travels?” Kai asks with mild surprise, and Kyungsoo nods timidly in response.  
  
“It’s fascinating,” Kyungsoo mumbles. “I’m sure you noticed…working at the supermarket isn’t very exciting. I mean, it has its moments, but it gets very routine. Your stories, on the other hand….”  
  
“I’m not visiting all these universes to go sightseeing,” Kai reminds him. “But yeah, it’s something, isn’t it?”  
  
“Take me with you?”  
  
The request is so sudden and unexpected, even Kyungsoo’s face is etched with surprise from the proposal.  
  
“I-I mean, I want to experience—”  
  
“It’s impossible, Kyungsoo. And even if you could come with me, I wouldn’t let you. It’s dangerous: You remember the scar I showed you, right?”  
  
When Kyungsoo nods, his gaze subconsciously drops to Kai’s clothed torso. Even if he can’t see them, the mere thought of Kai’s scars sends shivers up his spine.  
  
“Actually,” Kai continues, “you’re quite the exception to my experiences.”  
  
“Oh?” asks Kyungsoo, his eyes widening from curiosity. Kai grins in response, leaving Kyungsoo slightly confused yet all the more intrigued.  
  
“Yeah, no one’s ever bothered me this much before.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“And no one’s ever asked me to stay, either. It’s a good thing, though. This is the closest I’ve ever felt to home. Having to adjust to so many different universes…it’s psychologically scarring, I could never let you come with me. It’s hard to adjust to a universe where names and faces are all familiar, yet you still don’t belong.”  
  
Kyungsoo remains silent: He’d come to a similar conclusion last night yet still has no words to offer him.  
  
“You were going to go Go Karting?” Kai asks Kyungsoo in an attempt to dispel the blanketing silence; Kyungsoo nods slowly, though his mind is still wrapped around other thoughts to comprehend Kai’s motives. “Why didn’t you go? You were complaining about a lack of excitement, right?”  
  
“You know why,” returns Kyungsoo, and Kai does know why.  
  
“Do you go out often?”  
  
“With Baekhyun and Chanyeol? Sure, once every so often….” As if by coincidence, Kyungsoo’s phone goes off at the mention of his friends’ names, though he ignores the text message with the intent of reading it later.  
  
“So, not often,” Kai concludes, and he grins smugly at Kyungsoo’s subsequent protests.  
  
“I mean, the three of us together! I see Baekhyun a lot, he’s my closest friend, actually. But if we ever do anything thrilling, it’s because Chanyeol wants to.”  
  
“Do you go along with it?” asks Kai, and Kyungsoo only shrugs silently. “Not always, right? Yet you were so eager to come with me.”  
  
“Is it so wrong to be curious?” Kyungsoo cries defensively. Kai grins, clearly amused with the situation, and it upsets Kyungsoo, somewhat. “I admit, when I said it to you, I hadn’t really thought things through….”  
  
“It’s because you don’t want to have to say goodbye to an important friend,” says Kai. “You’d rather come with me than have to say goodbye twice, am I right?”  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t know how Kai has reached this conclusion, but it’s exactly the truth. He nods shakily, unable to say much else, fearful of Kai’s opinions and his words to come:  
  
“I can understand it,” Kai mutters after a moment’s pause. Kyungsoo, having feared criticism for self-centered desires, lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been keeping in. “Those times I told you not to get close to me…it was a mutual concern. I was also scared to get too close to you, because goodbyes are unavoidable in my life. Then I _did_ get close to you, and you’re so much like my Kyungsoo that it hurts. Still, even if this is the closest I’ve been to home, even if you most closely resemble my Kyungsoo, I don’t belong here. I have my own Kyungsoo to find, my own home to return to.”  
  
“Let me accompany—”  
  
“I told you, Kyungsoo, no. You’re an idiot if you think you can convince me to let you—”  
  
“Then stay a little longer?” There’s a hint of desperation in Kyungsoo’s voice that causes Kai to stop mid-sentence and to hear Kyungsoo out. But there’s nothing between them that hasn’t already been there: Kyungsoo’s desperation resounds louder than before because time keeps pressing onward, mercilessly, without regard to either of their concerns, like a derailed train. Inaction, serious reflection: they amount to the same collision ending, not unless—  
  
“Stay?” Kai echoes, and the lack of firmness in his voice gives Kyungsoo a strange though possibly premature sense of hope. “To be honest, I don’t know what will happen if I don’t go.”  
  
“How exactly do you…” begins Kyungsoo, and his nose scrunches up as he tries to think of the correct phrasing; “…you know, _go_?”  
  
“When I dream, I see a location and am given a date, usually about three months from the night I dream. As long as I make it to that place on time, I’ll wake up the following morning in a different universe.”  
  
“That sudden?” Kyungsoo asks in disbelief, shaking his head when Kai nods his head slightly.  
  
“I haven’t missed, yet. I had no attachment to the previous universes and I was too scared I’d be stranded in a universe I didn’t want to be stuck in, so I always made every effort to get to where I needed to be. So, I don’t really know what would happen. I don’t think I’d be stuck here forever. If I’m lucky, I’ll still wake up in a different universe. Maybe my dream has nothing to do with my leaving.”  
  
“If you’re lucky….” _Right,_ Kyungsoo adds to himself, _it would be lucky, because Kai’s still trying to find Kyungsoo. His Kyungsoo._  
  
Kai continues, “You know, there’s a rumor I’ve heard across the dimensions. They say when people die, they’re actually reborn in a different universe. So let’s say I do stay, and let’s say I do get stuck….”  
  
It takes a moment for Kyungsoo to follow Kai’s train of thought, but when the realization does dawn upon him his eyes widen in horror and he immediately throws a fit.  
  
“Absolutely not, no way, I…that’s absolutely _absurd_ , you’ve already come so far, you can’t just—”  
  
Kai’s laughter cuts Kyungsoo off. Kyungsoo doesn’t understand: How can Kai laugh at the prospect of death? Even if people _were_ merely reborn in a different universe when they die, would they necessarily be born as the same person with the same memories? And what about the people left behind?—Kyungsoo knows that hurt firsthand.  
  
When Kyungsoo brings these points up, Kai waves an apologetic hand at him and manages between dying laughter: “You’re so adorable when you’re worrying about me, I’m sorry…I can’t help it.”  
  
“And that’s funny to you?” Kyungsoo asks indignantly, and Kai only breaks into more laughter. “Well, I’m sorry for not wanting to watch two Jongins die.”  
  
This, apparently, is enough for Kai to regain control of himself.  
  
“Sorry…you’re right.”  
  
“I get it now, though,” mumbles Kyungsoo. “As much as I want you to stay, you can’t. You have things you need to see through. You have someone important you have to meet.”  
  
“You too, Kyungsoo. You have someone important here, too. If I find out you ditch that Baekhyun guy a second time, I’ll think less of you.”  
  
“I’ll make sure you don’t find out then.” Kai shakes his head in disapproval, causing Kyungsoo to smile faintly. Kyungsoo gets another text message, but again he chooses to ignore his phone; silently Kyungsoo begins to ask himself more questions, but he keeps them to himself.  
  
_Kai, how many Kyungsoos have you met?_  
  
“I told you from the very start, didn’t I?” Kai speaks softly, but firmly. “I’ll only hurt you in the end.”  
  
_How many of them knew a Jongin?_  
  
Kyungsoo shakes his head furiously. “Hurt me? Not at all! I’m happy to have met you. You said I was the closest you ever found to your Kyungsoo, right? It’s the same. I never expected to run into Jongin again. You’re the closest to him, I think…I guess through you, I was able to talk out my feelings of losing Jongin so suddenly, to cope in a way I hadn’t been able to when I was twelve. Does…that make sense, or am I just talking nonsense?”  
  
_How many Jongins have you met?_  
  
“I think so,” Kai replies, his expression softening. “So you had closure, then. I’m glad to have helped in that way, and I’m sorry again for what happened. When I approached you, I had no idea.”  
  
_Do you think you’ve met my Jongin in another universe?_  
  
“I told you, I’m happy to have met you.”  
  
_If you let me come with you, would I be able to meet my Jongin one day?_  
  
Kai hesitates for a moment before nodding quickly. “Same for you, Kyungsoo. Even though I haven’t found my Kyungsoo, I feel revitalized again. I don’t know how many universes I have left until I find Kyungsoo, let alone home. But thanks for helping me to cheer up.”  
  
“I have say goodbye, don’t I?”  
  
Kyungsoo voices this last question aloud, and he regrets the words as they leave his mouth, because he’s left with a heavy pain in his heart: _This is it,_ he tells himself, _I’ve run out of time. But I understand Kai, now…._  
  
“Yeah. I think it’s best we split ways now, so I have time to mentally prepare myself.”  
  
Their next moments together are silent, save the occasional text message Kyungsoo receives: They’ve already exchanged enough words. Kyungsoo gathers his things. Kai watches sadly. For the time given to him, Kyungsoo thinks he’s managed well. But there’s never enough time, not for a heart which constantly yearns for more.  
  
They do exchange words before Kai shuts the door. Kyungsoo takes in as much of Kai’s appearance as he can—it takes several moments for Kyungsoo to suggest they take a selca together, and Kai reluctantly agrees on the promise Kyungsoo keeps the photo to himself. But that, too, passes more quickly than Kyungsoo would like, and the weight of goodbye is upon them once more.  
  
“Here’s to hoping the next Kyungsoo you meet is your Kyungsoo,” Kyungsoo whispers, forcing a smile to match his well-wishing. It’s the only thing he can think to say, at least in that moment. But to Kyungsoo’s surprise, Kai only turns away and shakes his head stiffly in response; when Kyungsoo inquires, Kai’s voice is restrained, troubled.  
  
“What am I supposed to say to that?” he asks, almost whines, under his breath. Kyungsoo’s heart hurts: It’s the most emotion Kyungsoo has ever heard in Kai’s voice. “I can’t even return the sentiment because your Jongin….”  
  
“It’s okay, Kai. I’ll be okay. Truthfully, when you told me that rumor about people being reborn elsewhere after they die, I wanted to convince you again to let me come with you. If Jongin really were out there somewhere, I would want to bring him home. But I…I was meant to let him go a long time ago, I think. Neither of us fell through any cracks like you did. I should accept things as they are, right?”  
  
“Kyungsoo….”  
  
“I’ll be okay,” Kyungsoo repeats, nodding his head in an attempt to sound reassuring. “Just promise me you won’t die.”  
  
“I won’t die,” Kai returns firmly. “I promise.”  
  
Another silence falls upon them, but it’s a different kind of silence. This silence is not of mutual understanding, of acceptance; rather, the lack of exchanged words breeds second and third thoughts, doubt, regret….  
  
“We don’t have to say goodbye,” Kyungsoo offers quietly. “If you shut the door on me right now…we can pretend we’re just friends who haven’t met for a while.”  
  
“You’re only making this hurt more,” whispers Kai. But before Kyungsoo can reply, Kai does shut the door on him, and Kyungsoo’s left alone with his thoughts and the view of a white wooden door.  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t leave the premises, not immediately. Frozen in his clutter of thoughts, he remains rooted, clinging to every word of every question as it passes through his head: _Have I done the right thing? Will we ever run into each other again? What will happen to this flat once you’re gone?_  
  
This last question is what spurs him to leave at last. Even now, Kyungsoo hates the word ‘gone,’ curses himself for using it. He himself had suggested it, hadn’t he?—that they would simply be friends who had not yet agreed on when to next meet….  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t take the bus home, he’s scared for what memories might trigger. He walks alone, despite the distance, even though his body aches and his thoughts won’t leave him be. He’s still hung up over charming eyes and a devilish—  
  
His phone rings yet again, and Kyungsoo nearly curses at it for pestering him all day long. He checks his messages only as an excuse to distract himself from his thoughts, but his heart plummets at all the unread messages.  
  
He expects them all to be from an angry Chanyeol, but he sees his parents’ names. As he scrolls down the inbox, Kyungsoo sees the names of old acquaintances, his boss, Chanyeol, Baekhyun, Chanyeol again….  
  
Most read the same message:  
_Happy Birthday, Kyungsoo! Sorry you couldn’t make it._  
  
Kyungsoo’s eyes widen in apprehension. He checks the date on his phone: Today is his birthday. He’d been so consumed in Kai that he’d forgotten….  
  
_Wait, couldn’t make what?_  
  
Suddenly, Kyungsoo’s scared to read Chanyeol’s and Baekhyun’s messages. He remembers his conversation with Baekhyun, the disappointment in his voice—why hadn’t he mentioned anything? Now that Kyungsoo thinks on it, Baekhyun had been the one to first make the proposal, having used Chanyeol’s tendencies as a premise. Had they coordinated something together? Kyungsoo doesn’t even want to begin to imagine what birthday plans Baekhyun had made for him, the plans he’d had to cancel because of his preoccupations with Kai.  
  
Kai, whom he’d known would be leaving from the very start.  
  
In the end, had he really done the right thing?  
  
‘If I find out you ditch that Baekhyun guy a second time, I’ll think less of you.’  
  
Kai’s words echo through his head, as if to guilt him, and Kyungsoo is painfully reminded that only in his head will he be able to hear Kai’s voice. But he can’t just ignore Kai, so once Kyungsoo reaches home he finally open his unread text messages.  
  
From Chanyeol, _You dumbbutt, Baekhyun was trying to throw you a surprise party! Your parents and your university friends were all there waiting for you!_  
From Chanyeol again, a picture message, a photo of a brain, with _As promised_ as the accompanying caption.  
And from Baekhyun, _I’m sorry, Love, I should’ve probed more about your schedules. Let’s have a quieter celebration sometime, ne?_  
  
Between disappointing his friends and losing Kai, Kyungsoo finally lets his tears fall.  
  
  
  
  
  
_Where are you now?_ Kyungsoo asks the darkness late into another sleepless night, and it’s accompanied with _What are you doing? Are you still awake? Are you still at your flat? Did you mean everything you said today? Are you thinking of me?  
  
…because I can’t stop thinking about you._  
  
There are no waves, there’s no screaming, no Jongin. Kyungsoo is alone in every sense of the word. He’s said goodbye to both Jongin and Kai, but he’s still unsure if he’s done the right thing.  
  
“Tomorrow,” Kyungsoo mumbles to the darkness, and even as he speaks he closes his eyes in another attempt to fall asleep; “tomorrow I’ll call Baekhyun, I’ll make things right. So you too, okay? Tomorrow, you better find him. Or I’ll... I’ll think less of you, heh.”  
  
Somehow, he hopes his words reach Kai.  
  
  
  
  
  
Kyungsoo has a habit of making idiotically unrealistic conclusions, so he entertains the possibility that he might leave like Kai, that if he sleeps tonight he’ll awaken to a new universe with a new purpose in accompanying Kai and finding his Jongin.  
  
But he doesn’t. He’s disappointed, but not surprised, that he wakes up to an empty world and an early shift at the supermarket. Kyungsoo works the register today, which on most days would be his favorite shift. But not today. The enjoyment he usually takes in meeting and greeting customers is absent. His enthusiasm withers, his smile is forced, and the aisle across from him is lacking one mysterious yet inspirational individual.  
  
Kyungsoo concludes absence cannot possibly make the heart grow fonder, for his heart only aches.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
One year later, Kyungsoo presses his phone against one white door. It’s the fourth time he’s visited Kai’s old flat, even though new tenants reside there, and if it weren’t for the nature of their goodbye Kyungsoo would not have had the courage to return. But visiting is something Kyungsoo feels he has to do because it’s easier for him to face a door than a river.  
  
Kyungsoo pretends the door is a wall, and he stares at it because someone is on his mind. He pretends there are no strangers residing on the other side; he sees through the wall and imagines himself dancing with Kai, he hears his laughter as his clumsy steps match seasoned movements. Kai’s right, Kyungsoo thinks to himself, because a dance shared with someone is special, unique, always to be remembered.  
  
He misses Kai. Life goes on, but he misses Kai.  
  
Kyungsoo’s phone rings, but he ignores it. Today is his birthday, and he’s made a promise to not ditch Baekhyun. But before he leaves to attend to his birthday plans Kyungsoo has words to offer Kai, so he pulls up their selca and stares longingly at Kai’s face.  
  
Charming eyes.   
  
“Hello Kai,” he whispers to his phone, “it’s Kyungsoo. Do you remember me? Where are you now, how are you doing? Have you found Kyungsoo, yet?  
  
“It’s been three months, hasn’t it? I know we haven’t met in a while, but today is my birthday. I promised you I would never ditch Baekhyun again, but I was wondering if you would like to celebrate with me after? I know you don’t choose which universe you travel to, but I’d really like the chance to see you again today. We can meet at the supermarket, take the bus home together like we used to.  
  
“So, just let me know, okay? I’ve kept your promise, I haven’t told anyone, not even Baekhyun. But if we can’t meet today, it’s okay. I know you said it’s always three months, so I’ll come back.”  
  
Kyungsoo pauses. There’s no response. He doesn’t expect one, hasn’t expected one since his first visit. Each time, Kyungsoo tells himself that he shouldn’t come back because Kai isn’t coming back, but he can’t help but to wait, even if waiting causes the minutes to stretch endlessly. Perhaps Kai will come, Kyungsoo reasons, perhaps he’s just running late, so it’s for this reason that he keeps returning, that he waits for a little while longer.  
  
The images of them dancing begin to fade. The wall returns to a white, wooden door. The moment is almost finished.  
  
_Maybe next time,_ Kyungsoo thinks to himself, _we can agree to meet again_.  
  
---  
  
**Author's Note:**

> Please view the [original posting](http://reveries-unsung.livejournal.com/2048.html) for story notes and other comments that initially accompanied this story.
> 
> Thanks for your time in reading this! Feedback is always welcome. My contact details are on my profile, if you would like to reach out to me to talk more.


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